Wolfpup
by Sirius7
Summary: What if Xander had the chance to be raised by his real father… Stringfellow Hawke?
1. Prologue

Wolfpup

A _Buffy: the Vampire Slayer/Airwolf_ crossover

Author: Sirius

Disclaimer: No one you recognize is mine. They all belong to Joss Whedon and Belisarius Productions. In addition, some of the opening dialogue and scene come directly from the _Airwolf _episode "Day of Jeopardy."

Rating: T, for now, because Hawke gets mad… and so does Dom, and Caitlin and Michael and… you get the idea. There are words used that are not of the happy variety.

Pairing: Caitlin/Hawke, eventually

Archive: sirius_writings and XanderZone (if I can get the formatting to work the way I want it to), TTH and – all others, please ask first.

Summary: What if Xander had the chance to be raised by his real father… Stringfellow Hawke?

A/N 1: The Plot-bunnies won't leave me alone until I finish this. Maybe if I give in, they'll let me work on some of my older stories, that have been hanging around, unfinished, for the last few years? But, hey, at least they're letting me get back into the B:tVS crossovers, and that's a step in the right direction, I think.

A/N 2: In the third-season _Airwolf _episode "Day of Jeopardy," Hawke is asked to protect a former lover, a woman he hasn't seen in six years. At first, he wants nothing to do with her, and eventually, Dom gets him to tell the tale, or at least part of it.

Hawke: "We were in love… at least, I was. She was pregnant with my baby – didn't want it. Guess we were just too young."

Now, I'm not giving my opinion on abortion, one way or another, but it is made clear in the episode that Tess Dixon (Tess Rogers, when Hawke knew her), had chosen to have one, and that Hawke very much had not agreed with that choice. He wanted their baby, and – having little family as it was – took her choice rather hard.

So… what if she hadn't? What if she told Hawke she was going to, or that she had… but gave the baby up, instead, and Hawke never knew? What if the baby was adopted by a couple with the last name Harris?

The original airdate for the episode was January 25, 1986, and six years prior (whether it's exact or fudged a little bit), likely would have led to the child being born sometime between September and December 1980 (given that Tess was probably only two-three months pregnant when last she saw Hawke, and depending on how much fudging is done with that "six years"), so the dates work rather well with any of Xander's suspected birthdates.

All four seasons of Airwolf are available at Hulu for free viewing (though I tend to ignore – or search for plot-holes in – much of the fourth). I'd recommend watching "Day of Jeopardy" before reading this story, but it's not strictly necessary (though it's a very interesting episode, and well worth watching, even if I'm not particularly fond of Tess, for reasons that have nothing to do with her past with Hawke). The story starts after a rather long chase sequence that ends with an exploding pickup full of bad guys, and a bullet-riddled semi containing Tess and Hawke. Hawke has exited the semi and come around to Tess's side; Tess is still sitting there, rather dazed.

So… on with the story…

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Prologue:

"You never have forgiven me, Hawke."

There was a whirlwind of thoughts whipping through Stringfellow Hawke's mind as he stood staring at his former lover, almost holding her. She was a devastated woman, and Hawke, for all his attempts to isolate himself from the world, did not have it in him to stand by and do nothing while someone was in pain… particularly when that someone had once held a place in his heart. Still, there was one thing he had to say.

"I loved you, Tess. I really wanted our baby."

"I know." She paused for a moment, staring out the windshield of the bullet-riddled semi she'd not been able to move from, yet. She took a deep breath, almost as if she were bracing herself for a blow.

"I have to tell you something, Hawke, and I know you'll hate me for it, but I've been a coward long enough. When I told you I'd terminated the pregnancy, that we were too young… I lied. I thought if I told you I'd already done it, it would be easier to go through with it. I didn't want a baby then, not anybody's, but the look on your face when I told you… I'm sorry, Hawke."

"What…?" Hawke felt as though he'd been kicked in the gut. He couldn't seem to catch his breath for a moment, no matter how hard he tried. What did this mean? Did she have the baby, or did she just get an abortion later than she'd told him? If she had the baby, where was it?

"I couldn't do it, Hawke. I couldn't get rid of him, but I couldn't keep him, either. I wanted too much, then, and none of it would have been possible if I'd had to take care of a child. I tried to find you later, but you'd gone to ground, the way you do when someone's really hurt you, and I didn't look as hard as I should have. What kind of person am I that I found it easier to give him away to strangers than to give him to the father that would have loved him, just because I was afraid of seeing that condemnation in your eyes again? I'm a fool, Hawke, and I have been for a long time. Everything that's happened to me… it's no less than what I deserve for what I've done to the two of you."

Hawke wasn't going to deny that he was angry – hell, that he was _furious_ – but he still had a job to do. He needed to make sure that her husband didn't kill her before she could testify against him to a Senate Sub-Committee, and they needed to be on their way now. Besides, the pilot knew himself well enough to know that he needed a chance to calm down before completing this discussion. He wasn't sure if Tess would wait, but he had to try. Too much depended on maintaining his focus right now.

"This discussion isn't over, Tess," he said, his voice cool even while he kept a protective hand on her arm. Even if he did view her silence – that she'd kept his child from him – as a betrayal, that didn't change the fact that she was expecting her second child… her lover's child… a child she actually wanted. Even if he could have brought himself to hate her, for the sake of that child, he would protect her still.

As he helped her out of the semi, and walked with her to the Lady, Tess began to speak again. "I have to tell you what I know now, Hawke, or I might lose what little nerve I have left. I met them, the couple who adopted your boy. I wanted to make sure that he would go to good people. Their name was Harris. They called him Alexander, and I know they lived in California then, but I don't know where. If you find him, or he finds you, tell him I gave him up because he deserved better than what I was capable of giving him at the time."

Hawke said nothing, merely nodding, and helping her up into Airwolf. He turned his attention back to the flight and the threat to Tess's life, and for the moment, away from the distracting idea of his son.

Hours later, as Tess stood testifying before the Senate Sub-Committee, and every paid assassin had been eliminated, Hawke found himself taking Archangel aside for a little word. If anyone could find his boy, it would be the spymaster or one of his people.

"Michael, I've got a favor to ask…"


	2. Chapter 1

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating, and Author's Notes.

Chapter 1:

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs, III, codename: Archangel, sat in his darkened office early the next morning, considering what his friend had asked of him just the night before. The Deputy Director thought over his options. He understood Hawke's wish to search for his son, and certainly wasn't going to stand in his way, but recent events had made it clear to Archangel that his division had its own problems to straighten out at the moment. He'd been taken by surprise at his aide's attempted assassination of Tess Dixon, and would be looking into his own people for some time to come. The last thing he needed right now was another mole in the making. At the same time, Hawke was his friend, and Michael had no wish to refuse him the help he'd asked for.

Who could he trust with the task of looking for Hawke's child?

As a ray of early-morning sunlight worked its way through the blinds, Archangel thought that perhaps, just perhaps, he'd managed to stumble on the answer. There was one former member of his staff who'd never had even the slightest thought of betraying him, and in fact, had risked her own career with the FIRM to pull his butt out of the fire on multiple occasions, more than proving her loyalty to him. More importantly, _Hawke_ would trust her, as much as he trusted anyone. She had taken a temporary leave to finish up her residency, but she'd been planning to be back with the FIRM full-time in the next couple of weeks. Even while she was on leave, Marella still held her clearance levels, and he knew she would find time to help with such a sensitive issue as this.

The spy had no doubt that in some respects, Hawke's well-being was directly proportional to the health and happiness of his son, and could only hope that whatever information his former aide might find would ease the pilot's mind on that score. Hawke had made it clear that if the child was happy with his adoptive family, he'd leave him there, and Michael knew without a doubt that the decision was based in the loss of the pilot's own parents when he was a child. Even without having laid eyes on his son, Hawke cherished him enough that he would not tear him away from loving parents, and Michael greatly admired the strength the decision must have taken.

Picking up the phone, he dialed a familiar number.

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

It was a somber and deeply thoughtful Hawke that Caitlin O'Shannessy found at Santini Air that morning. Dom had called the night before and given her a heads-up that something wasn't quite right with Hawke, but the older combat pilot didn't know the whole tale and wasn't one to gossip (old war stories were another thing entirely).

Still, Cait hadn't expected to see Hawke here this early. In her mind, that meant he likely hadn't had any sleep the night before, and was working at the hangar to distract himself from something… or someone… he didn't want to think about at the moment.

She didn't even have to look at his face to know it; the way he was standing was enough. The unconsciously defensive posture and the 'stay the hell away from me' body language was easy for her to read. Most sensible people would have obeyed those signs and given Stringfellow Hawke his space… but Caitlin wasn't most people, and she knew that if he'd wanted to be away from everyone, he would have gone home. He would have added to his stock of firewood or played his cello on the dock. Being here, at the hangar, meant he wanted to talk to a friend, and just wasn't sure how to start.

That left starting the conversation up to her. _Well, it wouldn't be the first time._

She walked up behind him, moving slowly and being sure to scuff her sneakers on the hangar floor a time or two; the last thing she wanted to do was startle him. She watched, and waited until she saw his head tilt to the side and his hand place the wrench that he'd been using to make adjustments to the Jet Ranger back into the toolbox.

She smiled, laid a hand on his shoulder, and wasn't at all surprised when he moved to put that arm over her shoulders and tuck her next to his side in a friendly hug. She'd just about given up on the idea of there ever being anything of a romantic nature between them, but that didn't make him any less of a friend. Her hand slipped down to his waist, and she reached up to brush a kiss across his cheek.

"You okay?" Of course, she knew he wasn't, but this wasn't the time for a confrontational talk… though she'd been known to have those with him a time or two as well.

Hawke shook his head, turning eyes to Cait that she would swear were at the same time haunted and joyous, not a combination she usually saw from him. "I… ah, hell, Cait, I don't even know where to start."

She smiled at him, for just a moment – _at least he's bein' honest about it, instead of tryin' to shut me out_ – led him to a nearby work-bench and proceeded to get them each a cup of coffee. Handing one to him, she took a seat at his side, and took in the morning, waiting, silent. He'd talk when he was ready, and she'd wait here until he was.

_Of course, I don't have any intention of lettin' him leave until he tells me what's wrong, but he doesn't need to know that yet._

Caitlin watched as Hawke took a drink of his coffee, and then set it aside, turning toward her. She could almost see the thoughts running through his head, almost hear him go over what he was going to say and then change his mind before the words had a chance to escape. It made her a little nervous; she'd never seen him this uneasy.

_My Lord, whatever's on his mind must be huge_.

The flash of raw pain in his eyes was so strong, it almost took Cait's breath away, but then Hawke began to speak, and all she could do was listen. Listen as he spoke of a woman he'd loved. Listen as he spoke of the baby she'd carried… that he'd wanted, and she hadn't. Listen as he spoke of the day she'd told him that baby no longer existed.

All she could do was listen as he spoke of the events of the previous day, and learning that somewhere… somewhere, he had a son. And she knew, because she knew Hawke, that the sheer _not-knowing_ was unacceptable and maddening. He would be every bit as driven to find his son as he was to find his brother, Saint John, still MIA after more than fifteen years.

_Dom can't possibly know all this. There's no way he would have left String on his own if he had._

"What can I do? What do you need?"

"I need you to help me keep my promise, Cait. If he's happy with his family, I can't take him away from that… from them. They're good people, Tess said… and odds are, they don't have the enemies we do. I have to think he'd be safer with them, but it's been so long since I've had any family besides Dom… and you… that I might fight for him anyway. If he's happier there, I'll need you to help me walk away."

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Sunnydale, same day

A little boy crouched in the bushes outside his house, hoping to escape his father's notice. He was always angry now. The little one thought that it used to be different, before Mama and 'lyssa died, but he couldn't really remember.

"Alexander! Get back here, you little bastard!" The man's voice dropped from yelling to drunken mumbling, but the boy could hear him perfectly. "He should have died, not my wife, not my baby girl. Brat isn't even mine, and _he_ lived through it."

The boy shivered as the man drew closer, knowing there was nowhere left to hide.


	3. Chapter 2

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating and Author's Notes. Oh, and it's possible I may have unintentionally borrowed the "Free Food" line from somewhere else, though I don't think so. If anyone's seen it in another fic, please let me know, so that I can revise the line or properly credit the appropriate author. 

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Chapter 2:

Theresa McNally walked down the halls of Sunnydale Memorial, straight to Pediatrics, alternately offering prayers of thanks that she hadn't been scheduled to work the day before, and heaping every curse she could think of on Tony Harris's head. _I don't even want to think of what would have happened to Xander if he'd gotten to the house while Matt and I were both working. He wouldn't have been able to make it much farther than he already had._

Mental curses in three different languages – benefits of having been a military brat – were peppered through her thoughts. Most of them were centered on what she wanted to see happen to Tony Harris and certain employees of the Sunnydale Police Department… her own Hippocratic Oath be damned.

"Dr. McNally… are you okay?" Thankfully, the voice was a familiar one, and came complete with Sunnydale Memorial's most experienced security guard, Darryl Kenseth. Theresa looked at him and grinned, seeing the perfect – if temporary – solution to the problem of Tony Harris. She recognized military and former military personnel when she saw them, and knew the first time she met Darryl that he was a kindred soul. The fact that he was 6-foot-4, built like a linebacker, and had never missed a day _or night_ of work in his ten years on staff… well, those were just perks.

The thoughts in the forefront of Theresa's mind centered on the many and varied ways the Marine Corps had taught Darryl to defend himself and damage others with his bare hands – _Tony Harris would be good for him to practice on _– and the fact that Darryl was himself a loving father to a football team worth of children. Some of them had been born to his family; others, he'd just sort of started to mentor along the way. His foundlings all knew they had a place to go that was safe if they needed to get away from… any number of things.

"Theresa?" She started a moment, realizing she'd gotten so lost in thought that she hadn't answered Darryl's question.

"Sorry, Darryl. I'm fine… pissed, but fine. Xander's here… again. The police are refusing to do anything… again. I swear, Darryl, Alex Lavelle must have been the last honest cop on the entire force… and we saw how that ended. He never would have stood for this. And Jess… hell, she wouldn't even recognize Tony now. Speaking of which, if you happen to see him…"

"Lock him in a room until just before sunset, and then tie him to a convenient tree?" His voice dropped to a whisper before he added, "With a sign around his neck that says 'Free Food.'"

Theresa gave Darryl a quick look at that, admiring his creativity despite her own fear of the dark… or rather, what was in it. "Inventive," she said, "but at the moment, I'd happily settle for just keeping him away from Xander. Having the Sunnydale Police Department actually do its job would be a luxury at this point. I'll take any ideas you've got for getting Xander away from Tony that don't involve outright murder. Keep in mind that bribery might be an option. Maybe if we give him enough to get permanently lost in a bottle, he'll sign some papers and forget he has a living child… before he actually succeeds in _killing_ said child."

"I'll keep an eye on the little guy, Doc. Tony won't get anywhere near Xander while he's here… but how will we keep him safe once he's been discharged? I know you've filed reports – I have, too – but I'm half-convinced they're just ending up in a shredder somewhere."

"Which is why I keep copies," McNally said with a sigh, still continuing to walk down the hall with Kenseth pacing at her side, even though he had to shorten his stride to do so. "I'll be bringing Jesse in a little later, Darryl. Maybe it'll help. If I could figure out a way to convince Sheila Rosenberg to bring Willow in, I'd do that, too… but I can understand her worries. She's had a few unfortunate run-ins with Tony herself, and doesn't want Willow anywhere near him – or Xander, by default, at the moment."

The two friends reached the door of Xander's room and entered, Theresa automatically looking over his chart and noting that nothing had changed since the last time she'd looked, just an hour before. _Finger-shaped bruises on both arms, cuts and scrapes, numerous belt-marks on his back, a boot-shaped bruise on his left leg, and a jagged glass cut on the right – probably courtesy of a broken bottle. More defensive wounds to the arms where Xander instinctively tried to protect his head… and one doozy of a black eye. I'm not complaining, but it's a minor miracle that there aren't any broken bones in this mess. Oh, kiddo, you deserve a damn sight better than this._

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Marella began her newest task with a search of California's vital records, still somewhat shocked at the thought that Hawke had a son. _Both Hawkes, actually_, she thought, remembering Le, who was – so far as anyone could tell – Saint John Hawke's son. There'd been no solid proof as of yet, but String couldn't care less. As far as he was concerned, Le was family whether Saint John actually was his father or not. Stringfellow Hawke may be one of the most aggravating people she'd ever met… but he'd never turn his back on family or friend. Finding his son would allow Marella to return a favor he'd done her when he went after Michael despite his own injuries.

Michael may have repaid that favor, but as far as Marella was concerned, she still owed him. So… she'd start looking for the boy in California, and branch out from there if she didn't find anything. _Just have to be careful to hide my tracks. The last thing we want is anyone on the Committee thinking they can hold Hawke's family over his head. Knightsbridge would be wiped off the map if they tried, and I know where Michael and I would be standing… it's not with Zeus._

Her cautious approach to the search meant that she didn't have a full list of all individuals named Alexander Harris, Alex Harris or A. Harris in California for a couple of hours, and that was only a starting point. Even though Hawke had been given his boy's name to start the search, there was no guarantee that the adoptive family had actually kept the name they'd told Tess. For all Marella knew, they could have decided a day later that they actually liked 'Nathaniel' or 'Gideon' or 'Fox' better. She just had to trust in solid research… and maybe a little bit of luck. While she'd found the birth certificate for 'Baby Boy Rogers,' she'd only been able to track him after that point to an adoption agency that had kept only hard-copy files, none computerized… and had burned to the ground two years back. Any files they'd had on Hawke's boy were nothing more than cold ash.

Alright, maybe she'd need more than just a _little_ luck.

She took her list of names, that she'd quickly narrowed down to the fifty-seven children near the correct age, and over the next few days ran quiet background searches into each one, mentally cursing the adoption agency Hawke's lover had used. This would have been much easier if it still existed. Even if the agency didn't put anything on computer, it wouldn't have been difficult for Marella to get a look at the paper file. _Not difficult at all,_ she thought with a smirk.

One child in particular had caught the angel's eye almost from the beginning, but the more she discovered about this little one, the more she hoped he _wasn't_ Hawke's boy. Marella looked at the information she'd compiled on the little one, and was thoroughly disgusted. The work she did wasn't always squeaky clean, this was true, but what Anthony Harris had done to his adopted son didn't even approach tolerable. While she had no problems with the thought of Hawke killing Harris – in fact, she rather wondered if he would mind her lending a hand – she was more worried that he might wipe the entire city of Sunnydale off the map. _That_ might raise a few eyebrows, and wasn't likely the best of ideas. Even if this child wasn't Hawke's, he definitely needed to be away from his adopted father, and that was something she could see to on her own, if need be. She had many things in mind for Mr. Harris, none of them nice and all of them lethal… eventually.

She had set that boy's file aside, adding report after report to it as she found them, and one-by-one ruling out all the other children, until the adopted son of Anthony Harris was the only possibility left. And still, part of her hoped – for Michael's sake, since he really didn't need anything else on his plate – that _this _child was not Hawke's son, and Anthony Harris could be dealt with _quietly_, without bringing Hawke into this particular picture at all. That hope vanished as soon as she found video footage of the boy, apparently taken by a security camera outside his pre-school. Even in slightly grainy black and white, certain things were obvious. The child's eyes were dark, rather than Hawke's storm-cloud blue, but Tess Dixon's eyes were the same. The boy's hair was dark as well, but that could have come from either parent. The unmistakable identifiers for Marella were the stubborn set of the boy's chin, the striking bone structure… and that resolutely protective stance as he stood between a girl about his age, and a man who couldn't be anyone but Anthony Harris.

Marella found still photos after that, all of which were attached to various reports, each report making her angrier than the last. The more she read, the more questions came to her mind, and she began to construct a dossier of the situation in the town as a whole. There was no way she was letting Hawke or any of his family walk into this blind. And there wasn't a snowball's chance in Hell that she'd tell any of this to Hawke unless Cait and Dom were in the room… so they could sit on him and keep him from doing something rash, like demolishing several square blocks of real estate in southern California.


	4. Chapter 3

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating, and Author's Notes.

Additional A/N: There's much more to come, but the end of this chapter seemed a convenient place to pause the exposition.

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Chapter 3:

Michael had known the news wasn't going to be pretty when Marella came to his home with a file that was two inches thick, but he hadn't been expecting the depths to which Anthony Harris had sunk. He'd seen no few atrocities in his line of work, but some things still surprised him. It never ceased to amaze him, even now, what some people would do to children for whom they'd been responsible. He also was well aware that it would be wise to have a quiet word with Dom and Cait _before_ telling Hawke any of this. That way, there might be a chance of keeping him in the room long enough to hear the entire tale and come up with a plan or ten, perhaps more. It's not that Michael didn't trust Hawke; in fact, the opposite was true. He _did_ trust him… to do whatever needed to be done to protect his family.

"This… is not going to be pretty."

"That would be an understatement, sir. Are you certain it wouldn't be better for me to slip down to Sunnydale and just present Hawke with a _fait accompli_? It would be quieter, more efficient…"

"And not the right thing to do, Marella, no matter how tempting." Archangel closed his eye for a moment to ward off the oncoming migraine. He couldn't deny that Marella had some very… compelling arguments, but Alexander was Hawke's child. Once Stringfellow found out about Alexander's past, only one thing would help him deal with the demons spawned by that knowledge. _Hawke_ would have to be the one to bring his boy home, and Michael couldn't see any way around that. All the same, the spy would be damned if he'd let his friend go down to Sunnydale alone.

"Marella, call our three Musketeers and let them know we have all the information they've been wanting. Set a time for us to meet them at the cabin, and let's keep this as far away from Knightsbridge as we can manage. It's best not to make this any more complicated than it has to be."

"Agreed."

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Dominic Santini was doing the one thing that would be guaranteed to help him get his head on straight – working on his babies. In order to wrap his mind around the latest change to hit his little family, he'd decided to give the Stearman a complete overhaul… and take his time with it. The news he'd heard from String was still throwing him for a loop a week later. _A son. My boy has a baby. Santa Maria… my boy has a baby._ He knew that String planned to walk away if the little guy was happy with his parents, and the older pilot could understand that. At the same time, he was pretty darn grateful String had told Caitlin, too. Cait was a class act when it came to looking after his boy… and she wasn't known for taking his attitude. _Makes it harder for him to push her away._

Truth be told, he'd been glad to see String lean on Cait over the last week. The feisty former cop was strong enough to support him any way he needed without letting it overwhelm her. And Dom had seen enough over the last year and a half to know that the support wasn't one-sided. Hawke had been known to coax troubles from Cait when she needed to talk… _really_ talk, that is. Each of his 'kids' had more ghosts already than any one person should have in his entire lifetime.. but he couldn't shake the feeling there'd be even more to deal with by the time all was said and done.

Dom remembered, just after he and String had gotten the Lady out of Libya, being asked to help keep a pilot from wondering off with the Air Force's newest fighter jet, and the unforgettable 'adventure' of getting Ho Minh Roper – _Stringfellow_ Roper, now – out of Russia. He'd had a talk with the boy's mother, Nhi Huong, after all was said and done and Ho Minh safely with his family, and she'd said a few things that had bothered him at the time, said that String had always expected those who knew him to read his silences, that he'd never tell anyone when something was wrong.

Part of that was true, Dom knew. String _didn't_ talk much; he never had, especially when something wasn't sitting right. But the people who really did know him _could_ read the silences. Dom had known the boy almost from his first day in this world; reading the younger Hawke was easy, even when he didn't want to let anything through. Dom had had plenty of practice. What had surprised him was how quickly a certain redhead had slipped through those walls that String put up, how she always seemed to know when to push with him and when to back off. Most of the time, Dom tried _not_ to put too much thought into it, other than to offer up a quick prayer of thanks for Cait. He had wondered, though, after overhearing bits of a few phone calls, whether Cait had tracked them down in part just to get away from her mother. Dom couldn't tell one way or another, but suspected that String knew a fair bit more on that front.

Dom set down his tools and walked over to the desk to grab a new cup of coffee just in time for the phone to start ringing. He picked it up with a quick "Santini Air," seeing String's head snap up out of the corner of his eye. Dom made a mental note to send String out for lunch or something to get him away from the office for a little while. He'd been jumping every time the phone rang, and _really_ needed to relax. Dom briefly wondered if he could talk Cait into kissing the younger pilot. _I'd think that would be distracting enough for him_.

The tone of Marella's voice on the other end of the line quickly wiped the smile from his face. _The cabin? Why does she want the meeting to be at the Lake, rather than Knightsbridge? Not that I've got a problem with it; it's just a little odd. Oh, _that's _why. Not all of it's happy news and she wants us somewhere that String won't just leave on a whim._ Dom caught Cait's eye quick while Marella continued to lay out the plan for the afternoon. The ex-cop was sharp; it didn't take her long to figure out what Dom wanted. She slipped around to the Jet Ranger and started on pre-flight checks. Hawke caught on quickly and joined her in it. By the time Dom had hung up the phone, the pre-flight was done, and all he had to do was close up shop. The three of them together managed it in ten minutes, and Dom did a quick run-through of the lighter aspects of the phone call while they were at it.

Fifteen minutes after he'd hung up the phone, they were in the air and headed to the mountains. _We'd best land in the clearing today, and leave the dock free for Archangel. I have a hunch this is going to be a _long _conversation._

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Cait just had to see the look on Marella's face to know that what she'd found was not good. On a hunch, she moved closer to where Hawke sat on the couch and just put a hand on his shoulder. It wouldn't be enough to make him stay seated if he didn't want to, but it might make him think about it first. _Oh, this is gonna get ugly. Maybe we'll get lucky and it won't be as nasty as I'm thinking… or maybe we won't, and it'll be _worse. _Okay, Marella, you can start speaking any time now._ Part of her wanted to fill the uneasy silence with some random statement, but she knew it wasn't the right time for 'random.' She and Hawke were sitting on the couch, Dom had grabbed the chair, Marella standing near the table with a large and rather ominous-looking file… and Michael was _pacing_. _Oh, that's not good_.

Michael started speaking first. "Hawke, I need you to promise me something." He didn't seem at all unnerved when Hawke started to glare at him. "Yes, Hawke, I am familiar with your silent version of 'Get to the point,' but I still need you to promise. Some of what you're about to hear is good. Some isn't. I need you give me your word that you will listen to all of it, instead of rushing off in the middle without knowing all the information you need to have to get your boy home. Now, will you give me your word or will Dominic have to sit on you to keep you still?"

Dom's laugh interrupted the conversation, and even Cait had to chuckle at what came next – while trying to ignore the blush creeping up her cheeks. "Me?" Dom said, with a chuckle, "I'd think Cait would stand a better chance of keeping String on that couch than I would, Michael."

"I know what he means by that, Hawke," she whispered so softly that only String would hear her, "and if I didn't love him like a father, I'd be tempted to hit him upside the back of the head… with a cast-iron fryin' pan." That at least coaxed half a grin from him as she rested her burning face against his shoulder.

When she brought her head and surveyed the room again, she could swear that Marella had relaxed a little. _Okay, if Dom's managed to ease the tension in here, I may forgive him for the joke. Lord knows Hawke doesn't feel that way about me – even though I might wish otherwise – and this wouldn't be the time to discuss it in any case. _

She watched with no small amount of unease as Michael's best angel slid documents from that huge file, one after another. When the file was empty, and everything lay on the table in an order known only to Marella, she started to speak. "Anthony and Jessica Harris. At the time these two adopted Alexander, Anthony was a civil engineer working for the city of Sunnydale. Jessica ran a day-care out of their home. Pillars of the community, well-liked. Jessica's best friend is currently head of Pediatrics at Sunnydale Memorial – Dr. Theresa McNally. Jessica's older brother, Alexander Lavelle, a former Army Ranger, was the Chief of Detectives on the Sunnydale Police Department for quite a long while, routinely working third shift, and widely regarded as the best officer on the force. My research would indicate that he was one of the few _honest_ cops on the force, and a good man, all the way around. Tony and Jess had tried for years to have a child of their own with no success, and finally turned to adoption, where they met Tess Rogers, and subsequently adopted her son. At Jessica's insistence, the boy was named Alexander Lavelle, after her brother. As her brother typically went by 'Alex,' the little one ended up gaining the rather unlikely nickname of 'Xander.' The first two years of Xander's life were… well, pretty close to perfect."

Cait could feel Hawke's shoulder muscles tensing under her hand as he likely realized what she already had… that things were about to go downhill from here. _Not good_. She tightened her grip on that shoulder for just a moment, as a gesture of support, and the tension eased, just a little. Hawke's hand came up to rest on top of hers for a second, a wordless thank you, and he stayed seated.

"As sometimes happens after a couple adopts a child, Jessica found herself expecting. Shortly after Xander's second birthday, the family welcomed his little sister, Alyssa. Xander adored her, just like everyone else in the family. Only, from what I've been able to figure out, Tony Harris began to back off from Xander, now that he had 'a kid that was really his.' Jess never treated Xander any differently than she always had. He was her oldest and always would be, no matter how many of her own followed… or didn't. She did, however, notice how Tony was beginning to act, and would frequently take the children out to a nearby park, or on other outings. If Tony wanted some time with Alyssa, and didn't seem to want Xander around, Jess would call in 'Uncle Alex' and he and Xander would have a boys' day out." Marella smiled for a little as she paused in the telling. "Those two would get into the most amusing little scrapes… but those are stories for later."

She paused again, and Cait felt Hawke tense up again. _I'm sensing a pattern._

"The little scrapes didn't last long. Shortly before Xander's third birthday, Detective Lavelle was doing a late-night patrol – not customary for detectives, but something that Lavelle did on his own initiative… and, apparently, to make sure the third-shift patrol officers were on their toes, and not sleeping in their cars. He spotted something unusual near the Mayor's residence, called it in and requested back-up. None came." _Ah, hell. Dirty cops, or just a rotten dispatcher?_ "The next morning, what was presumed to be… pieces… of him were found. No official cause of death was ever determined."

"Damn," Michael said, looking a little pale. _I wonder if he hadn't heard that part before._ Cait could see a look of agreement on Dom's face, and presumed that anyone watching her would see the same. Hawke had gotten that still, granite look that meant someone would be hurting soon. The only question in Cait's mind was whether that hurt would be delivered by firearm, heavy artillery, or bare fists. It wouldn't take much more than this for Hawke to be out the door and on his way, the rest of the world be damned. _I hope Marella hurries up with the rest of this. I'm not sure how much more he can take. I'm not even sure how much more _I _can take before I decide to join him in whatever his brain's cookin' up._

Cait's voice was soft was she spoke, but no less resolute for it. "Tell us the rest, Marella, so we can get to work and bring our boy home. What else is going on in Sunnydale? What else happened to Xander?" Cait met the angel's eyes with her own, and saw that Marella's poker face was slipping. There was a nervous tension and anger, as if she really didn't want to say what happened next… or wanted to kill whoever was behind it… possibly both.

"Two months after the death of Detective Lavelle, Jessica arranged to meet her best friend at a city park, just to relax and let their kids play. As their car approached the park entrance, at ten o'clock on a Saturday morning, another car ran a red light, T-boning the Harris car on the driver's side. The other driver was completely drunk, and walked away, without so much as a bruise. Jessica and Alyssa Harris weren't so lucky. They didn't survive the accident. Xander, on the other hand, didn't even have a scratch on him… and Tony Harris has been making him pay for that ever since."


	5. Chapter 4

See Prologue for Disclaimer, Rating, and Author's Notes.

Additional A/N: Yay, I've finally gotten my laptop back after five weeks in the shop (I won't give details, as that would start a multi-page rant, and I'd rather get on with the fic).

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Chapter 4

He'd known something like this before… the slow-building, cold rage, the kind of deep, searing fury that had led him to empty the Lady's arsenal to obliterate something that could barely qualify as human. Dom had brought him back from the edge that time, his gruff, familiar voice drawing him back to reality as he had continued to press on the firing stud… though there was nothing left to fire. The Lady's missiles had all but turned that portion of desert to glass, and guaranteed that nothing of Moffett would survive. But that wildfire fury at Gabrielle's death _paled_ next to the bone-chilling howl for vengeance that was calling to Hawke now. That howl wouldn't be satisfied by the use of Airwolf's missiles… no, this thirst for blood demanded that he hunt down Tony Harris and tear him to pieces with his own bare hands, break bones and slice through flesh until he heard Harris beg for mercy. If there was anything left after that, he'd give Dom and Cait their turns, and raze whatever Harris _laired_ in to the very ground.

The eyes he turned to Cait would have scared anyone else, he knew. They were ice and fire, a freezing cold that burned, a promise of death for Tony Harris… but not right away. They didn't scare Cait. Her gaze was just as fierce, and a thought other than vengeance started to work its way through his brain. _'Our boy,' she said. 'Bring _our_ boy home.' My son means just as much to her as her own would. Why?_

Knowing that someone felt the same, that he had family to watch his back and help him get his son, eased the rage. There's nothing like the certainty that something _is_ going to happen to calm the mind, whether that something is death or the sunrise. For Hawke, knowing that there was nothing that could change it somehow made it easier to work around. Tony Harris _would_ die; that was one of the certainties. Nothing and no one, however, had said Hawke had to go into this alone. In fact, his _family_ had been saying the exact opposite. He could wait to deal with Harris. He could let Michael soothe his own mind in tactics, legalities and Machiavellian strategies.

With a slight grin, Hawke realized he even had the luxury of allowing Marella to torment the poor, ignorant bastard… slowly. Marella could be vicious when family and friends were at risk. For now, his task was to concentrate on retrieving his son. Safety for his boy came first. Vengeance would keep.

He saw Cait relax a little, the small hand on his shoulder still a connection to her, and he knew she wasn't worried about him losing it anymore. He took that hand in both of his, and closed his eyes for a second, remembering to breathe and thinking for a moment on how well she seemed to know him.

"Michael… where do we go from here?"

Hawke watched, with as much amusement as he could manage at the moment, as Michael's face took on a look of open amazement. "You'll pardon my disbelief, Stringfellow, but – to be frank – I expected you to be out the door by now."

"I have a little more restraint than that, Archangel. The priority now is to get Xander here, safe. Anything I'd like to do to Harris will keep." Hawke ignored the stunned silence and looked to Marella. "You said that Dr. McNally was Jessica's best friend, right? What are the chances she'd be willing to help us?"

Marella matched his gaze, and then picked up a report from the table. "Excellent," she said, "considering that Xander is a patient at Sunnydale Memorial now, and that there's more than a little evidence the good doctor has kept him there despite the fact that he's well enough to be discharged, if only just, solely to keep him away from Tony Harris. She's filed numerous reports to the police and to Social Services about Xander's situation, none of which have apparently warranted follow-up, in the _impeccable_ judgment of both local agencies. She's not the only one to do the write-ups, either, so you won't be without allies."

"Good. I need a plan, Michael, and I need to know who's coming with me. Could use your help with 'subtle,' don't you think? What's the easiest way to make sure no one will try to get Xander away from me once he's home?"

The face of the master spy was a study in cunning, with a side of smug. "I've already started the ball rolling on that. Since it's obvious the local authorities can't be trusted, I've gone several steps up, and had a quiet word with key individuals at state and federal levels. We've already gotten the clearance to go in and get Xander, though there are several different _ways_ we could do that. Once we have him in custody, we can do a paternity test, then take the results of the test and documentation of abuse and have the adoption overturned. In the meantime, those same authorities are quite interested in finding out what's going on in that town, particularly in respect to law enforcement, or the lack thereof. Things have gotten quite a bit worse since Detective Lavelle's death."

"Yeah, I can imagine. Sounds like he was the only cop in Sunnydale actually interested in 'Serve and Protect.'" Hawke wasn't surprised at Dom's comment, just that he'd been quiet for as long as he had. Cait was just as quiet at the moment, but hadn't moved her hand from his, and he couldn't quite manage to let go of that hand just yet. For now, he could only listen as Michael continued to lay out what plans he'd already put together.

"We've got a couple of options open to us, Hawke, and you've got final say all the way through. We can walk into the hospital accompanied by county or state law enforcement and just _take _Xander… no ifs, ands, or buts from the medical staff. After all, we have a doctor of our own. Not what I'd recommend, but still a possibility. We already have the appropriate paperwork to allow us to take him into protective custody."

"Tempting," Hawke found himself saying, with a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, "but apparently not your favorite plan. What's option number two?"

"Option number two is in several parts. We gather Dr. McNally and the others who filed reports into one room, and have a chat with all of them. I suspect it won't take much – especially with the appropriate paperwork in hand – to convince the good doctor to discharge Xander into your care on a more official basis than would have been possible with the first option. Meanwhile, other personnel can take Tony Harris into custody – without doing _too _much damage – so that he can be convinced to terminate parental rights on a voluntary basis... or sign a confession, whichever works better. Personally, I'd prefer the second, followed up by a lengthy stint in a prison where everyone knows he got his kicks beating up on a five-year-old. It won't win him any friends, and it's a much longer-lasting punishment than many of the other options available."

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Xander woke to the familiar sight of the Sunnydale Memorial Pediatric Unit. He knew it was afternoon because of the sun shining through the windows, bright and warm. He stretched, and reached up to rub at sleep-blurred eyes, happy not to have any needles in his arms anymore. He was still hurting, but it wasn't anything new. He was a big boy; he could take it. _And it'll be over soon, anyway. Mama said. _His thoughts were interrupted as his keen ears caught the sound of small feet coming down the hall, just before the door opened. A happy shriek let him know his almost-brother was in the room before he ever turned to look.

"Hi, Jesse."

"You're awake."

Xander shot his friend a look that – even on a five-year-old – was an unmistakable 'Well, duh' and slid over so there was room on the hospital bed if Jesse wanted to sit.

Jesse obviously understood the look, because he came back with, "Well, you were always sleepin' before," but came over and hauled himself up into the bed next to Xander anyway. They stayed that way for a bit, curled up in a puppy pile, watching cartoons.

After a while, Xander's eyes went to the windows again, and followed the bright rays of sunshine where they came through the open blinds. When he turned toward Jesse again, it was with a smile on his face. "Dad's comin' soon."

"Uh-oh." Jesse looked like he was about to slip off the bed. "I have to find Mom and Uncle Darryl, then. They're s'posed to keep him out."

"Not Harris, Jesse. _Dad._ My real one. Mama said he was coming."

"But..." The look on Jesse's face was pure confusion. Xander grinned and explained things the only way he could.

"You know I'm 'dopted, that Mama and Tony chose me cuz Mama thought she couldn't have any babies of her own. Mama always said I was special because she chose me, and she said she was double-blessed when she had 'lyssa, and me, too, because then I had a little sister of my very own to look after. Tony didn't think I was so special... least I don't think so. I don't remember much about how he was before Mama and 'lyssa died... remember Uncle Alex better. But Mama was here last night, while I was sleeping. Think I was dreaming, but she was still here... _really _here."

Xander's voice trailed off and he fought not to cry. _Seeing Mama's a happy thing, even if I'm not s'posed to. Miss her, but lots of people wouldn't understand. Jesse will, though. Dad, too._ He took a few deep breaths, almost sobs, and kept talking. He had to, because it was important, and he knew it.

"Mama said my real dad would be coming soon. That he never knew about me, that he loved me and always would, that he'd scare Tony away so Tony'd never come back. Mama said he'd bring my new grandpa, and a new aunt and uncle, and a lady who might be a new mum. Mama said they don't have to take her place or Uncle Alex's place, cuz the heart has room enough for everybody; it makes new spots for as many new people as it wants to. She said she'll always be with me, but she couldn't save me from Tony. They can. Mama said Mum would show me how to fight, Aunt and Uncle would show me how to do stuff without anybody noticing, Grandpa would remind me how to laugh... and Dad would give me wings."

The more he talked, the softer his voice grew, and the more his still-healing body edged toward sleep, darkness drawing him in almost before the last word had left his mouth.

TBC...


	6. Chapter 5

See Prologue for Rating, Disclaimer and Author's Notes.

A/N: Sorry this is so short. I've been sick lately, and my brain doesn't want to think anymore. The next chapter should be up by this coming weekend.

_Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup~~~Wolfpup_

Chapter 5

It was noon, and the end of a double-shift for Darryl Kenseth, who was very much looking forward to clocking out and going home to catch at least a quick nap before before his kids got out of school. Then he looked up, and instantly knew he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. The group who had just entered Sunnydale Memorial raised all the alerts in his mind, and he could tell there was going to be trouble... he just wasn't sure what _kind_ of trouble.

Leading the pack of five was a solidly-built man in his mid-thirties, dark hair cut short in a military style and aviator shades making it impossible for Darryl to figure out what color his eyes were. That he was a more-than-capable fighter was obvious. Thankfully, since it was daylight, Darryl was assured that the group was... probably... human, which was something at least. Kenseth knew better than to class humans as non-threats, though – heck, he was one himself, and was well aware that he was still a dangerous son. Unfortunately, living in Sunnydale had also made him aware that there were _things_ out there infinitely more dangerous than any human opponent he'd ever faced.

Behind the man were two more people... an older man, looking out of shape, but somehow still dangerous. All-in-all, Darryl thought he looked supremely ticked off, and like he had more than a little fight left in him. And the woman right beside him... well, his mama didn't raise any fools, and he knew better than to piss off a redhead, especially one that walked like a cop. Strangely, that observation calmed him. _She __**does**__ walk like a cop. A __**good**__ cop. Hell, never thought I'd see another good cop in Sunnydale after we buried what was left of Alex. And the other two, behind the lady-cop and the older gentleman... the white they're wearing is a deliberate distraction. Those two are every bit as dangerous as any of the other three... and there's a blade in that cane. I'd bet on it. Hell, best to bite the bullet and get this over with._

"Can I help you?"

The man in the lead took off the sunglasses, subjecting Darryl to a chilly blue-gray gaze that somehow reminded him of a Midwestern sky right before a spring thunderstorm. The minute he spoke, Darryl realized he had the voice to match. "My name is Stringfellow Hawke," he said. One by one, he introduced the others. "This is Dominic Santini, Caitlin O'Shannessy, Marella Yates, and Michael Coldsmith-Briggs. We're here to see Dr. McNally about Xander Harris."

_This could be really good... or really, **really **bad, and this being Sunnydale, who the hell knows? _Of course, the drunken voice that came from behind the pack of five quickly answered his mental question.

"What th' hell you want wi' the damn brat? Boy's comin' home with me. Costs too much to leave him here."

In an instant, the former Marine saw Hawke's eyes go from storm-cloud to ice, and as the other man turned to face the speaker – without a doubt, Tony Harris – Darryl found himself almost wishing he was back in 'Nam. At least there, he wouldn't be in the position of having to _defend_ Harris. He didn't want to take on someone he could respect for the sake of that worthless bastard.

The look on Hawke's face sent a shiver down the spine of even that well-tested military man, and reminded him of nothing so much as Hawke's namesake spotting a rabbit. Unfortunate that Harris didn't yet realize _he_ was the rabbit in question. Kenseth couldn't help but breathe a slight sigh of relief when the redhead and the old duffer – _O'Shannessy and Santini_ – deliberately placed themselves between Hawke and Harris.

"Xander isn't a brat... and he's not going anywhere with _you._"

When Hawke spoke, he seemed calm, but his voice was cold. The threat was obvious – to Darryl, at any rate. Whether or not Harris realized, well, he didn't know... didn't particularly care either, so long as Hawke didn't beat the crap out of him on hospital grounds. The other woman – _Marella Yates_, he reminded himself – had slipped to the new back of the group in the instant they'd turned to face Harris – solidly between Hawke and Darryl – and Darryl got her attention quickly.

"Ms. Yates," he said, keeping his voice soft more so Tony wouldn't hear him than anything else, "truly, I don't mind in the slightest if that bastard Harris has the living hell beaten out of him. Trust me, he deserves it. However, if the altercation happens on Hospital grounds, I'll be forced to defend the son of a bitch, and I'd rather not. If you could talk Hawke into waiting a little, I'd be grateful."

Much to his surprise, the reply came from the man himself. "I won't do anything to him here, except ask that you shove him in a locked room for a while. He has child abuse charges pending, and I'd hate for Sunnydale PD to screw that up. We've done a little investigating, Mr. Kenseth. We know you're Chief of Security here, and that you do a very good job. Unfortunately, we also know that the Sunnydale PD can't say the same, which is why _this_ will be taken into custody by officials of a much higher pay-grade."

Harris finally seemed to realize what Hawke was talking about and tried to get in his face about it, only to find that... not working out for him. Darryl, on the other hand, got to enjoy the sight of Tony being shoved face-first into a wall, expertly restrained and handcuffed by the lovely Ms. O'Shannessy. _Yeah, definitely a cop. _He walked through the group, took custody of Harris from the lady-cop, and marched him away from the unorthodox pack, four of whom had yet to say so much as a word. It took him a little less than a minute to hand him off to one of his most trusted men, and head back to the gang of five still waiting at the entrance.

Strangely, it _wasn't_ a surprise to see Hawke now with an arm around the lovely redhead. Santini was on Hawke's other side, and Yates and Coldsmith-Briggs – _I wonder why that name seems familiar_ – were once again guarding the rear. "Now that he's out of the way, Mr. Hawke, may I ask _why_ you're wanting to talk to Dr. McNally about Xander?"

"Wow... they really came. Cool!" Turning quickly, Darryl was treated to a sight that had been rare recently. Jesse was familiar – he was here every day after A.M. Kindergarten to visit Xander, and he was the one who'd spoken – but little Willow Rosenberg, and her mother, hadn't been seen in the hospital for quite a while. He had to think for a bit, but was fairly certain the last time they'd come was a couple of admissions back, for Xander, the time Tony had tried to back-hand Willow and Xander had sunk his teeth in the bastard's arm. Harris _had_ spent the night in jail for that one, but then SPD had shown their usual incompetence and let him go. Sheila Rosenberg had tried to keep Willow away from Xander after that, a worried mother honestly afraid for her child... and around Tony Harris, who _wouldn't_ be afraid for a child?

It was Jesse who'd spoken, and Darryl – as usual – went to a knee to be on the same eye level as the little one. "Who really came, Jess?"

"Xander's family. He had a dream, and his mama told him they'd come, and she was right. See, they're all here... aunt and uncle and granddad and his new mum – maybe, if his dad stops being stubborn – and his dad, too... his real one, that is, and why is everybody looking at me?"

TBC...


End file.
